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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648926">staying together--living together</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nogohello/pseuds/nogohello'>nogohello</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of leaving, returning and staying [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And get one. That's the fic., Asexual Number Five | The Boy, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Lesbian Vanya Hargreeves, Light Angst, Sibling Bonding, The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy) Need a Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:15:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nogohello/pseuds/nogohello</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Having averted the Apocalypse, the Hargreeves try to navigate living together as a family. It's not always easy, but it's worth it.</p><p>A story including movie nights, a puppy and actual communication between the siblings.<br/>_______________</p><p>(Part of a fic in which Lila was adopted by Five; he returned to his siblings as an adult and they stopped Doomsday.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allison Hargreeves &amp; Everyone, Ben Hargreeves &amp; Everyone, Claire &amp; The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), Diego Hargreeves &amp; Everyone, Grace Hargreeves &amp; Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves &amp; Everyone, Lila Pitts &amp; Everybody, Luther Hargreeves &amp; Everyone, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Lila Pitts, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) &amp; Everyone, Sissy Cooper/Vanya Hargreeves, The Hargreeves Family, Vanya Hargreeves &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of leaving, returning and staying [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. of green</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The meadow looks endless from where she’s standing.</p><p>Overlooking the grass and the flowers and a lonesome trio of oak-trees, Grace feels tall. She feels free. She feels… out of place.</p><p>But that is okay, she believes. She doesn’t need to belong; she knows her purpose and she also knows that even without purpose existence still goes on. A meaningless life is still life, regardless. Grace has been thinking of that quite a lot lately, when she sits out on the patio watching the sun rise: that waging war between burdening responsibility and stinging uselessness buzzing between her circuits. It didn’t exist before—before Pogo and Five rebooted her software and smashed the chains her creator put on her. Not even the concept of <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> really existed—just the <em>now</em> and <em>here</em> and <em>always</em>.</p><p>But these days things are more abstract than they’ve ever been, and thus, more… real?</p><p>There is no point in questioning it, really, but the woman has found that she likes driving her thoughts into a corner of dilemma. It’s proof of her freedom in thinking, in a way. You cannot find an answer if you have the liberty of approaching things from any perspective.</p><p>Then the answers are endless, infinite—then there are none.</p><p>Setting up her easel and getting her brushes and paint ready, Grace hums a tune to herself.</p><p>It’s from a movie Lila showed her a few evenings ago, called <em>“The Wind Rises</em>”—a beautifully animated tale that would’ve made her shed tears had she the ability to—and it is also the reason she has found herself here today: embodying one of the story’s characters by painting out here in nature.</p><p>Diego has been making a great effort to take her to local art galleries ever since they left the Academy behind and to buy her paintings and photographs of marvelous composition to make her smile (even though she would smile at him even if he didn’t do all that)</p><p>And when she announced she’d like to try out creating something herself, the children were over the moon. Allison even told her she’s proud of her for using her new-found independence—Grace is not sure why, but she takes it with delight.</p><p>Starting with a few pencil-sketches and tiny gouache landscapes, she has quickly worked herself up to trying oil on a medium-sized canvas, which she is working on currently.</p><p>Grace loves painting landscapes or small corners that can be found in their house—spaces that feel grand but still homely, no matter if boundlessly wide or inhabiting but the palm of a hand. Her lines and her perspective are quite realistic and attached to detail and clean strokes, but what Grace focuses on most is color.</p><p>That’s where the game begins.</p><p>She does not go ‘<em>crazy’</em> with color, if only taken in by a wandering eye, but she certainly chooses them with careful dedication. Painting the youthful petals of the poppies and peonies she does use red—but not any shade. Her colors resemble those that her references possess, but they are only <em>alike</em>. <em>Not</em> the <em>same</em>.</p><p>Not because she’s unable to mix up the right shade—her thinking-process and finely modulated skills certainly enable her to do just that—but because she wants the colors to tell the story. The place, the objects… it’s all there already. But the colors are what happens. And what she chooses.</p><p>Staring out at the land, Grace can feel a breeze pass by: hearing and seeing it, too.</p><p>She turns, seeing Five walk towards her, carrying a big, checkered blanket and a basket filled with goods. “Picknick”, he calls, his eyes gentle and warm.</p><p>“All alone, darling?”, Grace asks.</p><p>When he looks away, she thinks he might correct her soft tone or use of endearment (he’s told her before to not talk to him as she would when he was a child, as have some of the others: she really doesn’t know how to, though; they will always be her children, after all) but instead he chuckles, rolling his eyes slightly, and plops down on the ground, not caring for dirt.</p><p>“No no, Lila will come. Klaus and Ben, too. Vanya said she might join after she’s done with lessons, but I think it’ll be too late by then.”</p><p>Grace nods, watching him for a moment. His outfit is all black—a plain T-shirt and some jeans that look a bit too big for him, barely held up by a belt (which she knows not to comment on; though she still feels a strong urge to tut at his eating habits, as the caretaker she is meant to be)</p><p>His hair is dark, his eyes are grey—or perhaps a very dull shade of hazel—and Grace wonders what colors she would paint him, were she to do that. Not as in painting a portrait of him, neither as in putting paint on his skin; no, she wonders if she were to create another Five, <span class="u">another person</span>, which colors would she build that person with to make them feel like this specific child of hers.</p><p>It really makes no sense, does it?</p><p>Grace has to grin over her own silliness.</p><p>“I hope you don’t feel disturbed”, Five suddenly comments, nodding towards her blank canvas. He must’ve caught her staring.</p><p>The woman shakes her head. “Not at all. I like you around, always.”</p><p>She knows he doesn’t particularly like when she gives answers like that, but it is in her nature—changed coding or not. Otherwise she’d be lying.</p><p>“You know, Five… ”, she randomly starts, gazing off at the sky, “None of you kids have told me recently what your favorite colors are.”</p><p>The boy—no, <em>man</em>, she has to remind herself—quirks up a brow. “You’re aware that that’s not really what adults talk about? At some point you stop caring about something like colors of the rainbow or preferred animals or whatever.”</p><p>Grace laughs quietly. “Well, I’ve only now started caring.” She picks up a few tubes of oil-paint, superficially inspecting them. “So I am hereby officially asking you to tell me your favorite color.” Cheekily, she adds: “I am <em>demanding</em> it, as your mother.”</p><p>“Sure, <em>robo-mom</em>”, Five sighs, teasing her.</p><p>It takes him quite some time to reply, caught up in some moment in his head, far away from the present. Grace has seen it happen a few times already; they all have. He just needs his space.</p><p>“<em>Green</em>”, he finally answers, looking at her again with a gaze so piercing and wild, she could never capture it in a painting. “Green’s my favorite.”</p><p>“You’re lucky then” They both take a look at the meadow. “It’s all around here, dear.”</p><p>(<em>Though sometimes a small speck of a color makes it count much more than whole sea of it</em>, Grace supposes, but she does not say so out loud.)</p><p>Five moves from his position, digging through the basket he brought until he pulls out an apple. He does not eat it, only tosses it from one hand to another, nonchalantly.</p><p>“I guess… There was a time where I didn’t really see any green. Not the least bit of it, for years. I mean, none of the colors I saw had any power, any vibrance to them—but green, that was what I missed the most.”</p><p>He thinks a bit more. “Well, actually, I didn’t really notice the lack of it, until I first got to stand in a forest again, for a mission far, far away from here. A bamboo forest, to be specific. I cried that moment, and several nights after. It just took… my breath away. I wished I could just spend the rest of my days there.”</p><p>Grace eyes him, unblinking, as he clears his throat.</p><p>“Don’t ask.”, he rasps, trying to appear casual, “Please.”</p><p>The woman nods at him and starts covering her canvas in the first layers of paint, whilst they are in silence for a moment. She takes her time running his words through her mind.</p><p>“You don’t know what you’ve been missing out on—what’s been gone and lacking—until you get to experience the joys of having it. Seeing it, feeling it… anything like that.”</p><p>“Yeah?”, Five hums, no infliction in his voice.</p><p>“I think I realized that. For a long time I had no sense of identity, after all.”</p><p>He faces her as if to say something, but they are interrupted by the bickering of three people: a manifested Ben, a fancily over-dressed Klaus and Lila in the silky pine-colored dress she adores, which Grace had sewn her, wearing her hair in a nice French-braid (which is probably Allison’s doing).</p><p>“I am telling you, investing in an Alpaca will be the greatest decision of our lives!”</p><p>Though they are all talking over each other, it is quite evident that this voice belongs to the most flamboyant, dramatic person of the group.</p><p>“I’ve been dead since I was sixteen and you won’t even allow me the joys of a cat? What in the world am I supposed to do with an alpaca, huh? Fluffy kittens is where it’s at, guys.”</p><p>“You’re both wrong—clearly we should get a hill myna!”</p><p>“We’re not getting a bird for you to teach curse words to, you pubescent potty-mouth. We’re not getting <em>any</em> pets for you to teach curse words, at that! And if you guys cannot appreciate my truly magnificent vision of sharing our house with lobsters, then I will not take any suggestions from you! Especially since you heathens don’t want an alpaca, either. I really don’t know why I even bother trying to share my prophecies with the fellow commonfolk!”</p><p>“Hey- I’ve-“</p><p>“We know you’re <em>dead</em>, Benny-boy. Stop pulling that card on me!”</p><p>The rest of the banter turns to be intelligible again, like the smudged lines of a children’s drawing.</p><p>Grace likes it. She can appreciate both the quiet and the noise that usually comes with several Hargreeves being in one place. Five on the other hand looks very close to curling in on himself and throwing a bunch of insults at them to shut them up.</p><p>“Could you brainless idiots be any more obnoxious? I didn’t agree to having lunch out here for you three to give me a migraine.” They all know he’s biting back on the snark.</p><p>“If you convince your brothers that a myna is the best choice-“, Lila takes the blanket Five brought and lays it nicely over the grass, “And why are you even on the ground when you could’ve just sat down on this?”</p><p>He shrugs. “Don’t care. For neither of these things. What’re we supposed to do with a goddamn bird? I don’t need another annoying chatterbox in our house!”</p><p>“Didn’t you suggest a dog, Five?”, Grace chimes in. She recalls the car-ride from a few weeks ago.</p><p>Klaus makes a whiney noise. “Buuut a dog is so boooring!”</p><p>Ben crosses his arms. “I’m pretty sure if we got a dog you’d be the one to spoil it the most.” He turns to the others. “I’d be happy over a cute, little pup, but I’m genuinely scared for any animal in our household, if I think about it. And I’m pretty sure Klaus is gonna end up… feeding it chocolate or something.”</p><p>Said brother pouts. “It’s not gonna turn overweight by a piece of candy, <em>Beeen</em>.”</p><p>Lila groans, palm against her forehead. “That’s not the point, Uncle Klaus.”</p><p>Grace wipes one of her brushes clean, preparing for the next layer. “I’m sure you can gather enough information on safely raising a pet. And I have veterinary experience in my programming.”</p><p>Five finally takes a bite from his apple, frowning slightly at the seemingly not pleasing texture of it, “We’ll talk about this when everyone’s home, okay? I can’t believe that with how little space we have you all want to add another member to this family.”</p><p>“At this point, it makes no difference”, Ben replies. “The more, the merrier—or whatever.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>An hour or two after, they finish their picknick.</p><p>An hour or two after that, Grace is done with her painting. When she starts packing her things, contemplating whether Five would be happy or just burdened by her gifting the artwork to him, Vanya comes to her side—hair hanging in her face and an over-sized jacket around her shoulders.</p><p>“It’s gotten fresh”, is the first thing she comments, eyes wandering around the hill, “With the breeze, I mean. And the clouds…” She drifts off.</p><p>Grace makes a quiet sound of agreement. She is aware of the change in temperature, but of course it doesn’t affect her. Her system is built to work well even with immense heat or freezing cold.</p><p>Being out without warm layers is no problem to her.</p><p>The children do suggest she expand on her wardrobe, to own outfits for special occasions and the different seasons of the year. Though Grace has yet to understand the use of it, she does not complain, especially on the idea of elegant dresses and jewelry—but even more so on outfits that may make her look like a modern woman.</p><p>Grace has realized that the stares she gathers around her in public spaces are not due to her being android (no-one has found out, so far) but simply due to her appearance. She looks like an anachronism, a thing of the past.</p><p>But she isn’t.</p><p>Not at all.</p><p>“Should I help you carry that?”, Vanya hesitantly asks again, looking at the canvas. Grace slips out of the thoughts she’d been immersed in.</p><p>“It’s fine, sweetheart. How were your lessons? Did the students behave?”</p><p>Vanya nods wordlessly, her gaze caught in the distance. “It was all fine. Not much different from how it was at home- I mean, like… back there in the city. The music school here is really nice, actually.”</p><p>“I’m glad to hear.”</p><p>“Maybe there’ll be performances for all of you to watch soon…”</p><p>“Oh love, that’d be wonderful. I’ve not attended any concerts so far.”</p><p>For a moment it’s quiet between them.</p><p>“Mom- Can… can I ask you something?” Vanya suddenly shifts on her feet, running a hand through her hair. Something heavy hangs in the air, nearly catching the android off guard, in a way.</p><p>Grace still smiles. “Why yes, dear. Whatever you’d like to know…”</p><p>The woman bites her lip. “What are your thoughts on fa-… on Reginald? Reginald Hargreeves?”</p><p>The way Vanya says his name almost makes Grace chuckle, unfittingly. It just seems as though she’s asking with the possibility of the robot not knowing who her creator is—making sure to add his last name. Pronouncing it slowly and clearly.</p><p>Grace is very well aware of who Reginald Hargreeves is. Aware of whom Vanya is asking about.</p><p>“Did you like… <em>love</em> him? Do you, mom? I mean- he built you and you would always tell us how great of a man he is. How he is… someone to look up to.”</p><p>
  <em>Your father is a great, admirable man.----</em>
</p><p>Grace remembers, of course. She can recall every single time she told her children that.</p><p>It hurts, faintly, behind her bones of metal. Beneath veins of wire and blood of electricity.</p><p>“Of course I don’t love him”, the woman answers firmly. “I would not love the man who pained my children. I would not love someone who created me to be an oppressed worker under his strict regime. Whatever reason would I have to love him?”</p><p>Vanya’s eyebrow twitches. She seems unsettled but also relieved with the response.</p><p>“You’re right. There’s no reason for any of us. I wouldn’t judge you for thinking a certain way, though. You know, mom?”</p><p>She does.</p><p>“I’m glad, Vanya. But I can assure you I am thinking free of any ties when I say we better leave Sir Hargreeves behind us. He was a colorless, one-dimensional man—I could <em>never</em> paint him.”</p><p>Grace watches with delight as her daughter’s face breaks into a tiny grin, something triumphant hiding in it. “And I could never compose a piece dedicated to him. Not even a hateful, angry one—just nothing. He’s not worth the effort anyway.”</p><p>He really isn’t.</p><p>Together they head back to the house.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The evening mellows out from there—Diego teaches Ben how to make lasagna, Lila convinces them all to a round of watching <em>‘Mamma Mia’</em> and Luther shares his plans of building a sweet, little bird’s house in their backyard. Five accepts Grace’s painting, a flicker of emotion in the whites of his eyes, and hangs it up in a free spot next to a row of pictures of him and is daughter over the years—and a newest addition of a photograph of all of them squeezed together behind a table.</p><p>The food ends up charred at the top, but still edible, and Klaus bawls his eyes out over Meryl Streep (for no other reason than her sole existence) while Allison and Vanya try consoling him (without laughing at his antics); Grace knows that this is what she’s wanted all her life.</p><p>Just her and her children—and grandchild.</p><p>They’re happy: and it’s all she needs to be happy herself.</p><p>At the end they fall asleep sprawled out across the living room, a mess of limbs and drooling faces, which is okay since it’s Friday.</p><p>Grace stays to watch them as long as she can, as long as her batteries allow her to, as long as she is able to dwell.</p><p>That night, charging at her station, she dreams of green over green over green.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. we are leaning out for love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vanya and the beauty of nosy siblings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, this has some minor OCs in the beginning.<br/>But do not despair: they are not important to the plot nor is it probable that you'll ever see them again.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a surprisingly sunny Monday, Vanya finds.</p><p>The air is dry, but weightless and welcoming. Heat, but no fire. Just warmth.</p><p>The three of them are out in a cafe (a quite peculiar, hidden one at the edge of town). It is called “The Grumble Bee” and led by—<em>what a plot-twist</em>—the Grumble sisters; one of them working behind the counter while the other is, mysterious and unseen to the customers, stationed in the kitchen.</p><p>Klaus has been taking shifts here, helping out with serving and cleaning in the evenings. On days that he doesn’t work, he still often insists on coming by—making mostly Vanya and Allison tag along—and ordering a meal with what he considers his <em>VIP status</em>: meaning they usually get their milkshakes for free.</p><p>Vanya idly stirs her vanilla-flavored drink with the pink and white paper-straw that came with it. She is still a bit tired and drained out from her morning violin-lessons and also hadn’t gotten much sleep prior, due to the training Five and her had extended late into the night.</p><p>Her control has gotten a lot better—she can shatter glass on command, even able to aim her power at only one targeted object in a row of others, and also is capable of toning down her force by so much, she can practically move and bend stuff accurately, simply by channeling a sound for a few seconds.</p><p>Still, with all that improvement, it takes a lot of time and patience and energy, which Vanya, in a way, hasn’t had a lot of her whole life. Well, the whole lot of her life she can remember.</p><p>In any case, now she is glad to have downtime with her sister and brother though, even if right now the greasy food and thick beverage are unbecoming to her un-craving stomach.</p><p>“You are <em>so</em> gross”, she hears Allison chuckle as Klaus dips his fries in his chocolate milkshake, “What do we even have all that Ketchup and Mayo for?”</p><p>“Ketchup, dearest Ally, is for the un-woke ones in this plane of reality. I, however, am a man of incredible taste. As you all know already.”</p><p>Klaus then, in theatric response, takes a bite of the fry with a face meant to convey other-worldly deliciousness and revolution of cuisine. When he chews, he makes a show of acting like he is seeing the pearly gates of heaven.</p><p>For a moment Vanya lets one of her own fries dangle over the whipped cream in her cup in temptation, but stops as Allison shakes her head and mouths a clear “<em>Hell no</em>”; also combining that warning with the vivid imagination of vanilla, sugary sprinkles, salt and potato on her tongue.</p><p>Yeah, perhaps not.</p><p>Trusting her siblings on taste is never a good decision, on a further note—for whatever reason most of them seem to have developed a steel digestive system over the years. Especially Klaus and Five. Trusting them on food recommendations is like trusting a scorpion to not sting when carrying it on one’s back.</p><p>Suddenly, Vanya is startled by something appearing in the corner of her eye.</p><p>“Here are your doughnuts to-go”, a lady says, standing by their table out of nowhere. She is not dressed in the normal, boring outfits the waiters and waitresses are in, but carrying one of the business’ trademark white boxes for dessert-orders.</p><p>Klaus grins at the sight of her, clearly familiar with the new face. “Aileen! Lovely to see ya! If you’re that short on staff you could’ve just told me to jump in. Whoever would force the secret Grumble sister to crawl out of her cave?”</p><p>The woman rolls her eyes in playful nature, tugging a strand of pale, bleached hair behind her pierced ear. “We’re alright; I just thought that I could hand these out to our most special customers in person. Feel honored, or whatever. Nobody ever orders my coconut-and-honey-with-durian doughnuts, after all, except for your bunch.” She crinkles her nose. “My poor Frankenstein-y desert.”</p><p>Allison waves her off. “Well, then you can thank the youngest member of our family for having… <em>unique</em> taste.”</p><p>“<em>Godawful taste</em>”, Klaus coughs out, muttering under his breath for no-one (which means: all of them) to hear. “<em>I am genuinely worried for her taste-buds</em>.”</p><p>“Says you”, an unimpressed-looking Allison retorts, crossing her arms.</p><p>“They’re not that bad!”, Aileen scolds, then bursting with bellied laughter, “Anyway, they’re on the house. Just show your pretty face for some extra-hours when we’re busy, okay? There’s a birthday party planned for next week—a bunch of six-year-olds celebrating. Better prepare to be mopping all kinds of… <em>ahem</em>, fluids from the floor. And walls. And the ceiling. Everywhere, basically.”</p><p>Allison snorts. “You make this sound veeery wrong. Though, as someone with experience in children's birthdays, I fully get what you mean.”</p><p>Meanwhile, Klaus exaggerates a groan. “I <em>hate</em> working. Truly. But the things I do to show my pretty face around…” He bats his eyes.</p><p>Aileen huffs amusedly.</p><p>Vanya can feel herself blush as the woman then suddenly winks at her, under blonde, long bangs. “Guess being attractive runs in your family, huh?”</p><p>Agape, she takes a minute to process what must be a joke of a compliment, but before Vanya can even press out an embarrassed remark, the other has struttingly disappeared to her work again, leaving the kitchen door clicking closed soundlessly behind her.</p><p>It does fill her with a bit of relief, the blunted confrontation, as she has never been a master at conversation—especially such light-hearted, humorous ones, for some reason—but then Vanya feels something roll down into her gut, like a nagging memory unsheathing itself from the barrier of a notion-scabbard.</p><p>She has to think of Sissy.</p><p>They have seen each other about eight times since they first met on that otherwise terrible day she is trying to erase from her nightmares.</p><p>Sissy was one of the few good parts in that mess. Vanya likes her. That isn’t really that ground-breaking, though she admits she never had many friends outside her family (and for a long time not even within her family), but Vanya does not feel… like it is just that. She cannot really place it.</p><p>She misses her.</p><p>But seeing her is also so… <em>weird</em>. They’ll give each other updates and do small-talk and then suddenly Vanya feels thrown back to being insecure and small, because every accidental touch of hand or uncalculated gaze makes her heat up with fire in her throat and choose quick and misplaced words.</p><p>At the same time though, that anxiety, that uncertainty: it feels worth it. Because going on a walk together, sitting in the backyard, grabbing food somewhere; it is nice. It is natural. It’s good.</p><p>“Hohooo, is my little sister smitten by my kind-of boss?”</p><p>Vanya only now notices Klaus wiggling his fingers as well as eyebrows at her, while she had still been staring off at the closed door behind the counter. She slouches a bit as she realizes what he implies, but smiles. “Don’t be stupid. I spaced out-“</p><p>“Spaced out thinking about the hot chef?”</p><p>“No, I was just-“</p><p>“Admiring her biceps? That’s what cooking up the best waffles in this town will do to you.”</p><p>Allison flicks his arm. “Don’t tease her, doofus.” She then smirks. “I don’t think Vanya has such a bad-girl slash emo-rebel-wearing-leather taste anyway.”</p><p>Vanya wants to intervene, generally trying to get the conversation’s core and center of attention away from her again, as Klaus lifts both of his hands defensively.</p><p>“Oh, however could I forget: Vanny’s more of a vintage-farmgirl lover!” He does a hiccup-y giggle.</p><p>Now Allison cannot help but shamelessly laugh, too, with something knowing lining her features. She covers her mouth and squints at their brother.</p><p>Vanya furrows her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Klaus scratches his nose. “Nooothing, honey. I just think you might have a thing for a nice, thick Texas Accent, is all.” Both of Vanya’s siblings cackle, doing so as if sharing a grand secret, as if Vanya weren’t right here.</p><p>“Sissy and I are just friends”, she explains, hoping she comes across as unbothered enough to be convincing.</p><p>“Nobody said you aren’t”, Allison slides in, “But…”</p><p>“…if there’s <em>sparks</em>, there’s <em>sparks</em>. Rainbow fireworks, all around you. You know you can’t outrun your gay destiny, V! You’ve got to embrace your raging inner lesbian”, Klaus finishes the sentence, leaning forward across the table so much that both Vanya and Allison scramble to shove the food out of the way from being smushed by his fancy, silken clothing.</p><p>Gay destiny? Vanya’s not… <em>gay</em>, is she? She’s not. Right?</p><p>
  <em>Huh.</em>
</p><p>Actually, she hasn’t really thought of it. And she knows no-one in her family would mind, but something internalized within her dreads feeling part of yet another minority—</p><p>Does that make sense? Probably not.</p><p>Vanya shifts uncomfortably on her bench. “What makes you guys think that?”</p><p>Her sister sips at her strawberry milkshake. “We’re your siblings. And the Hargreeves siblings at that.”</p><p>Klaus nods. “We might not be able to… communicate well, or get over our shared but individually manifested trauma caused by daddy issues, or depend on each other without problem nor be independent of each other in peace, or agree on anything or ever make a compromise, or-“</p><p>“We get it, Klaus”, Allison shoves in to slow him down.</p><p>“<em>But </em>we still have this magical bond, I guess. I mean, you should know what I mean.”</p><p>Vanya isn’t sure she does.</p><p>“Might be our powers, don’t you think? I mean, Lila fits right in as well and technically she’s just the same as us. Don’t you guys ever think of what omnipresent, boundless, majestic force must’ve impregnated all our mothers?”</p><p>Allison scrunches up her nose. “<em>No?”</em></p><p>“So, you’re trying to tell me that although we might not be related by blood, we are related by… power?”, Vanya asks.</p><p>Both of her siblings nod.</p><p>“And that is why you can tell whether I like Sissy or not?”</p><p>Allison breaks out into a fit of her sunshine-y, sweet-sounding giggles, but Klaus’ expression remains deadly serious as he eyes Vanya beneath his bangs of frizzed out curls, which he has been growing out.</p><p>“Yes. Exactly.”, he shrugs, corners of his mouth twitching down shortly, “And I also have a great gaydar.”</p><p>Vanya rolls her eyes, stuffing some fries in her mouth, just to lazily chew. “Oh please.”</p><p>“But c’mon, Vanya. You cannot tell me you don’t even have the tiniest crush on Sissy. At least some kind of admiring and respectful crush.”, Allison argues, pointing at her with the straw she had randomly taken from her own drink, “The two of you are just too adorable!”</p><p>Of course, that makes her blush immediately. Vanya can feel it in her ears, cheeks and tip of nose. She hopes it isn’t too visible.</p><p>“I just appreciate how much she’s been helping all of us out, especially with my training!”</p><p>Klaus snickers. “Yeah? Tell us more, you hopeless romantic.”</p><p>Vanya decides to not lean into defending herself from the teasing. She takes some grand gulps of her milkshake, hoping to finish it as soon as possible, and then shily scans across the café, not looking for anyone in particular.</p><p>“She’s just great, okay? She listens and she tells me stuff and she trusts me just as I can trust her. And man, she’s <em>strong</em>. Like physically <em>and</em> just as a person with her own will: even, or maybe especially, with what she’s gone through in the past—still she remains so unperturbably sweet and accepting.”</p><p>A flash of a memory of Sissy runs through Vanya’s mind. It makes her bare a timid smile.</p><p>“And she likes both classical music, like Ravel and Rachmaninoff and Chopin, just as I do—but also loves all those grungy, edgy bands Diego and I used to obsess over. Last time, for training, we went to the lake to see if I can move the water with my violin, and she was so passionate about the music—just as I was. And she’d prepared a meal for us and told me about her plans to one day live on a farm again, and I… gosh, I played and my powers made the breeze grow stronger…”</p><p>Vanya laughs softly. “It made her hair and dress flutter around.”</p><p>Once she breaks out of her nostalgic trance, her sister and brother are gawking at her with expressions like eager, young meerkats. A weird sight.</p><p>Folding her eyebrows together to meet in the middle above the bridge of her nose, Vanya lifts a hand up to her face, feeling her own warmth and turning to the window to find her reflected features red as a tomato.</p><p>Allison hums. “Yeah, Sissy’s <em>great</em>, huh?” She looks at Vanya knowingly.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Vanya swallows drily, scratching at her wrist in distraction.</p><p>…</p><p>“Maybe…<em> maybe I do have a teensy tiny crush on her.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>The moment Vanya arrives in front of the local high school, she immediately spots Diego.</p><p>He is leaning against the front of his car, macho-leather-jacket and a weird expression that she supposes he thinks establishes dominance, when to her he just appears slightly constipated. There is a gingko tree nearby, shedding leaves occasionally, which Diego pulls and pushes with his powers to float around in unnatural motion and misshapen circles. To other parents waiting for their children to emerge from their finished classes it might simply look like a weird play of wind—but Vanya is trained to know otherwise.</p><p>She strolls over to him, calling his name, but his eyes are kept straight on the tree in pure concentration, unacknowledging her. He does however, reply to her greeting.</p><p>“You’re not late”, he points out.</p><p>“I’m not that unreliable.”</p><p>Vanya playfully punches his shoulder. He hisses, losing grip of one of the strange maneuvers he had made one of the billion yellow leaves do. It soars to the ground like a crashing plane.</p><p>“Well, the last few times we picked Lila up it was more of a case of us having to pick <em>you</em> up.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Vanya gets on her tip-toes to overlook the crowd of pupils storming from the front gates. She scans for a bob of black hair and a bright-green backpack.</p><p>“I’m sorry I have a job. It gets busy, Dee” Adding a fake sigh, she pokes at his ego. “But how would you know…”</p><p>They both know Vanya is lying—having spent the past hours with siblings Three and Four instead of buzzing around like a busy bee.</p><p>Still, Diego crosses his arms, now turning towards her as he takes exaggerated insult. “Excuse me, Miss. You’re speaking to the professional baby-sitter of Klaus, Ben, Luther <em>and</em> Lila.”</p><p>Vanya laughs, squinting at the bright sky. “Keep telling yourself that. I’m pretty sure Ben and Lila are the parents in that situation.”</p><p>This time, Diego’s features open up with genuine emotion.</p><p>“No! I’m telling you—our dearest brother loses it whenever Klaus manages to make him fully corporeal. This morning, I had to stop him from devouring his tenth sandwich in a row. Imagine it: he literally looked at me, teary eyes and green cheeks, and said <em>‘I think I’ll be very sick’</em> and then took another bite! Little shit-”</p><p>“Is this about Ben?”</p><p>Both adults look towards Lila, who had arrived sneakily. She is smirking at them, eyebrows raised. “I’ll take this as a yes.”</p><p>Diego nods, opening the car-door for her and then getting in himself. Vanya rides shotgun. Lining in for the daily after-school traffic, her brother shoots her a glance, getting back at their conversation.</p><p>“I’m also planning to give the police academy a go again.”</p><p>He sounds almost shy stating so. They all know it’s been on his mind for quite some time.</p><p>Vanya smiles. “Cool. I’m happy for you.”</p><p>“I’ve just been talking with Eudora whenever we both have time and it… I think it’d be worth it. Giving it a try, I mean. And I bet some more time away from the family will do me well.”</p><p>Lila, seated in the back, laughs. “Oh yeah? It’s your choice. I don’t see anyone forcing you to challenge Luther to a stupid, blindfolded race around the house or telling you to take grandma to every single shop this town has to offer. Not to mention the countless times I awoke to you and Ben and even Dad playing video-games while Klaus just… does whatever Klaus does and Allison maybe lets him paint her nails.”</p><p>Vanya has witnessed that, too. A strange thing to stumble upon, occurring at least once a week. She has taken part once or twice, even, embracing their family insomnia by making them all some snacks and watching the game progress. It’s all fun until you have to go to work with a whole amount of two hours of sleep, <em>at most</em>.</p><p>“You know, we’re this close to finishing the final level!”, Diego interjects, oddly passionate about it, “The end-boss is just a pain in the ass. And these ancient consoles make it glitch all the time.”</p><p>“You’re too old, anyway!”, Lila retorts.</p><p>“No no no, you’re just too young to get it!”</p><p>Lila and Diego both bicker back and forth a bit more, while Vanya trails off. Going down the street, she spots a small bakery through the window, which Sissy and her once got coffee at.</p><p>It makes her think, again.</p><p>Should she ask Sissy to a date? An official, serious, romantic date? Sissy had really liked those strawberry-jam croissants the shop had had—maybe she could invite her to some of those, and a drink after.</p><p>Or is that too much? Or no, is it too little?</p><p>Will Sissy even say yes?</p><p>“<em>Yes</em> to what?”</p><p>As Diego taps the steering wheel and gifts her a curious look, Vanya realizes she must’ve muttered the very last bit out aloud.</p><p>For a moment, she is unable to speak, hit by surprise and embarrassment, but decides to pull herself together. This is her family, after all. She can trust them.</p><p>(And she can also expect teasing, but whatever.)</p><p>“You’re not planning to propose, are you?”, Lila asks.</p><p>Vanya splutters. “What? No! But I thought… I thought about dating her, I guess.”</p><p>Lila lets her head flop to the side as Vanya turns, so they can both get a better look at each other. “You’re not? Like… haven’t you already been? Dating? I mean?”</p><p>Vanya’s eyes widen, same warmth sprouting in her cheeks as before, as she looks to her brother for support.</p><p>The corners of his nose wrinkle with crescent-moon eyes. He seems to hold back laughter. “I also thought you’re dating already. Subtly, you know? Or at least you clearly like her.”</p><p>Vanya slumps back, her seat-belt feeling tight around her chest. “What in the actual fuck? It’s like you’ve all been more aware of my budding crush than I’ve been up until…”, she takes a peek at the watch around her wrist, “… two hours ago? At most.”</p><p>Her brother chuckles. “Now I know saying <em>‘It was obvious’</em> is shitty, but the two of you work well together. <em>Really</em> well. Remember that time I third-wheeled shortly in training as we checked if you could redirect stuff I throw at you? I felt like I was watching one of those awful soap operas unfold, I swear.”</p><p>“And just the way you look at each other”, Lila cuts in, “It’s so sweet I could gag.”</p><p>This makes Vanya giggle. “It looks like I’ve ridden myself in to some sorta dilemma here…”</p><p>Diego shakes his head. “What the hell do you mean ‘<em>dilemma’</em>? Just ask her and you’ll see. I’m sure you two can work on this, whatever direction it goes.”</p><p>“That’s… actually a very mature response”, Vanya mumbles, leaning against the cool window with her eyes on the road as it falls back behind the car.</p><p>“I’m really happy for you, Aunt V”, Lila whispers to her, bending forward in her seat, “Also: great choice!”</p><p>With that, Vanya can only agree.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Spending time with Five still feels like walking through a lucid dream sometimes. Vanya wasted away a great part of her life picking at the shambles of the family she never truly had to begin with—now she lives in a house with nine people whom she calls her siblings, niece and mother.</p><p>Sitting down by the lake, so domestically, and with no reason to talk but to want to be in each other’s presence, is a stranger of a feeling that Vanya tries to embrace as gently as she can. She knows Five isn’t used to it either. They had both been lost to time and its workings for so long; they had both learned to more or less function on their own, with no-one to help.</p><p>Talking about something as insignificant as dating then seems a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it? After about seventeen years of silence.</p><p>But Vanya has come to the realization that small things matter. That neither size nor shape take from the weight and importance of it.</p><p>And if Five and her talk about what’s for dinner, about violin students or teacher-parent conferences, or just the goddamned weather, instead of discussing the grand themes of existence and remnants of the phases of each other’s lives that they missed: that’s okay. More than okay.</p><p>It’s just about them. Together.</p><p>Brother and sister. Five and her.</p><p>As she leans back in the grass, Vanya nudges Five’s arm. Carefully, as not to startle him, though it is close to impossible to catch him off guard.</p><p>“You know, I’ve been wondering: did the Commission have rules on dating? Like, were <em>‘love affairs’</em> in the workplace forbidden?”, she asks, genuinely curious but also just to kid around.</p><p>Five clicks his tongue, the skin around his nose tightening. “Since it never concerned me, I have no idea. I’m pretty sure Herb’s got a thing for Dot, though. Whatever that means.”</p><p>He appears to roll his eyes, almost annoyedly at the topic.</p><p>“I see. Romance is not your thing, then?”, Vanya considers with hesitation.</p><p>“What are you even trying to get at, V?”</p><p>She laughs. “I don’t know, Number <em>V. </em>Was there never anyone to accompany Mr Pitts-Hargreeves to a fancy restaurant or something?” Vanya hums, shily grinning up at the sky with the knowledge he won’t want to answer the question. “You know, I seem to have an unofficial Coming Out day today.”</p><p>Five scratches the back of his neck, interest not appearing to have been prominently sparked. “Is that so?”</p><p>“I guess everybody around me is convinced I am in love with Sissy.” At the word ‘<em>love’</em> Vanya’s voice quietens noticeably. “And I can’t really say they’re… wrong?”</p><p>For a moment, a silence stretches out between them, resting comfortably like a low note set out from a string. When Vanya looks at her brother, his expression is as arcane as the Mona Lisa’s, but she believes there to be a faint, surprised smile playing around his lips.</p><p>“That’s good, I suppose?”, he responds, hushed.</p><p>Vanya nods to herself. “I suppose so, too.”</p><p>A breeze passes them by; soft as a lullaby sweeping over their skin. Five pulls up his arms, cracking what sounds like every bone in his body, and exposing a bit of skin from his back by his lifted shirt, much less tan than his face and arms. Vanya often wonders what incited Five’s habit of always being covered, in a way. Clothed in layers, under fabric over fabric even on days as warm as this one. She’d ask him, but knows there’d be no answer.</p><p>It is very likely he doesn’t even know it himself.</p><p>“I’m happy for you”, he says after a while, as the colossal clouds above lift themselves up to hide the sun a bit. “If you’re also happy, that is. Then I am, too.”</p><p>“I am”, Vanya replies, “And it makes me… it makes me really glad to know that all of you support me. Just like that. You know—like family.”</p><p>“That’s cause we are”, he counters calmly.</p><p>(They are. They really are.)</p><p>“And—“, Five also adds, “I want you to know that the reason I never say anything about my own personal love life or whatsoever, neither past nor present, is not because I am horribly worried about you guys meddling or being nosy.”</p><p>Vanya chuckles, running her hands through the sunstruck grass. “Got it. I am fine with small secrets. We all need them after all.”</p><p>He shakes his head. “It’s not… not like I don’t wanna say anything. There’s really just nothing for me to say. At all.”</p><p>The wind stills gently as the water of the lake lay unmoving. Vanya takes a deep breath, almost gulping for the clear air. Five follows her in her doing, embracing the comforting current.</p><p>“It’s okay for there to be nothing at all.”</p><p>“I know, I know. Trust me: Klaus tried to give me this whole lecture on sexual orientation. I am not in need for another pep-talk or any of the likes.”</p><p>Vanya has to grin. “He means well.”</p><p>This time, her brother nods. “He does. But I don’t need labels. I just…” He appears to contemplate a bit. “There are so many forms of love, you know? And I <em>swear</em> I am going to dye your hair the brightest and most revolting shade of pink in your sleep if you tell the others, but I think I am very much fulfilled with love for my family. You guys and mom and Lila. Never have I needed anyone else nor anything else.”</p><p>Suppressing laughter, Vanya hums in thought. Not only is she flattered to hear Five threaten her with something so lacking in brutality and cruelty, but uncertain as to how to reply to his honesty.</p><p>It’s <em>Five</em>. Talking about his <em>feelings</em>. You don’t get that every day.</p><p>“I just don’t see the appeal in anything else. Never really thought about it much, either. But luckily, I am not in need for anything else.” He smiles, though the look in his eyes seems a bit distant.</p><p>“Then I am happy for you, too”, Vanya provides quietly.</p><p>Five laughs, in a way only he does. “But hey—this is your Coming Out day, not mine. And if you want to go and ask Sissy out on a date, then go do that.”</p><p>Vanya sighs dramatically. “Yes, yes. But like, what if she doesn’t take it well?”</p><p>The expression on Five’s face could almost be described as wild. “Come on now, you’ve survived far worse. And from what I can tell you: she likes you. Just have some trust, V. Use your voice and go talk to her.”</p><p>...</p><p>And so Vanya does.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me? Finally updating one of my works after exam season and personal ~drama~ slapped me in the face? It must be a Christmas miracle.</p><p>Someone send me the strength to battle both writer's block and demotivation :)</p><p>Enjoy winter and stay happy and healthy!<br/>(Also: this is not as proof-read as it should be. Let's see if it comes back to bite me or not.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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